God Plays Dice
by serpentnine
Summary: Not only does God play dice, but He sometimes throws them where they cannot be seen. A Vampire: the Masquerade crossover.
1. Chapter 1

Title: "God plays dice"

Spoilers: For whole series.  
Rating: T for violence, language, sexual situations  
Subjects: Drama, crossover ("Vampire: Bloodlines" game,) action/adventure.

* * *

Chapter 1 

The scintillating liquid lapped against the pool's stone edges, heaving gently, never still, despite the room's serene environment. Something very large pulsed far below, as if with breath, and the Oracle's words echoed unpleasantly in Kain's mind.

Kain knelt by the edge, eyes narrowed. "If Avernus is in flames, Raziel is five centuries beyond my reach," he said.

The voice emerged again from everywhere, from nowhere. "I may aid you in this regard as well..."

The surface of the pool seemed to tear, splitting and brightening, ripples becoming half-hinted images. Silhouettes emerged and hid again, traces of possibility in constant flux.

"This portal will transport you in time to the very hour that Raziel arrives in Avernus."

The portal – if such it was – seemed just as wet and unwelcoming as the liquid from which it had been formed. And this Oracle – why had Kain not encountered it before? Those creatures Kain had met who claimed knowledge of the future invariably proved manipulative and deceitful – even, or perhaps especially, Kain himself. Kain hesitated.

The oracle seemed to sense his distrust. "This task is yours to carry out... since it was you who made him what he is. When you are ready, you may pass through."

Kain knew, of course, that this self-styled 'Oracle' was not to be trusted. But in the end, what choice did he have? He stepped forward into twisting ribbons of light, into the gut-wrenching sensation of travel over vast distances, even as his body insisted he'd gone nowhere at all.

And stepped out…

…into empty, night-blue sky.

* * *

"Hash'ak'gik! Hash'ak'gik! Hash'ak'gik!" 

Raziel rounded a corner to the roar of many voices in a small space, the echoes rising as if from Hell itself.

"The blood of our first born do we sacrifice to you!" It took a long few moments for the last reverberation to fade, but Raziel heard clearly a choked cry, the gush of blood splashing. Strange that the sound should remain a comfort to him, even in his… current condition.

The worshipers seemed to feel that they'd completed something important. Raziel could hear nothing over their chanting as they departed, the echoes confounded all more dire sounds. He crept forward as they left, futilely peering down into the void. He couldn't even see the bottom from here. Was this the dreaded 'Unspoken' that Vorador had warned him about?

One step further, eyes glinting as he searched the darkness.

A pebble crumbled underfoot.

Swift as a hunting spider, a force seized Raziel, dragged him down. The wraith hardly had a moment to scrabble for the edge before he stuck bottom with a brittle crunch. Old bones and wetter things crushed and scattered from the impact.

And in the darkness, something very large began to move.

* * *

Avernus consumed itself before Kain's eyes, the city writhing with flames, the central cathedral alone untouched, still magnificent. 

The main gates of Avernus opened slowly before him, as if daring him to cross the threshold. Kain felt his lips stretch in a kind of a smile. Who was he to reject such an invitation?

The city was paved in blood and flesh; Avernus lay in ruins. Bodies lay draped over the broken bones of buildings. Whatever had slaughtered the people had ravaged the city as well. Something very large, or very powerful, had come this way, wrecking havoc howsoever it willed.

Kain had to admire its sense of style.

Fallen buildings and makeshift barricades formed a tangled warren of routes throughout the dying city. Smoke and bloodscent filled the air, alternately confounding Kain's sense of direction and enticing him – the gore that would have appalled him life only tempted him in death.

Unfortunately, the totality of the destruction left few humans alive. The bodies, dead by hours or days, could offer no more than a few mouthfuls of dust-ridden blood. The corpses grew marginally fresher as Kain worked his way towards the heart of the city, but the shrieks and roars of unnatural of slaughter grew louder, too.

Kain vaulted to the top of a barricade, crouching to avoid presenting a silhouette as he crested the rubble. His caution proved wise; in the broken plaza beyond, a man-sized creature, vaguely reptilian, pulled a screaming child from the deep niche in which the human had taken refuge. Cackling, the creature ripped the child's flailing arms from the torso. It snapped bites of each before flinging the limbs wetly away. The torso it continued to rend, sampling organs, spreading gore some twenty feet.

What a profligate waste of blood.

Kain examined the creature as it ate for perhaps half a minute, noting its speed, its claws, the way it moved. Kain returned his two great axes to their sheaths across his back and drew instead his plain iron sword, breathing the arcane words that wreathed it in flames. At last, the demon let fall the bare ribcage and raised its head, searching insatiably for more prey. Its eyesight seemed good and, once it started looking, the creature spotted Kain soon enough.

The beast paused for a moment, drooling in anticipation of the fine meal he saw before him. Kain smiled. He readied himself, thighs tensing with the unholy strength necessary to launch death-pale vampire and finely forged steel into devastating attack. The beast would be disappointed; he would not find Kain such easy prey.

* * *

Note: There are three timelines, and two Kains, at play in this story. If you find the variation too confusing, let me know.  



	2. Chapter 2

Chapter2

* * *

_And stepped out... __  
_

_...into empty, night-blue sky._

This wasn't Avernus.

Kain began to fall. Behind him, the portal blinked out of existence.

Snarling, Kain spread his arms, seized the fabric of gravity in his claws, and warped it. His descent slowed, then halted, and a breeze brought salt tang to Kain's senses. Far below, waves rippled with white-flecked crests.

They stretched to the horizon.

The oracle had transported him not to Avernus, but evidently, to somewhere above the Great Southern sea. Judging by the lightness in the air, dawn would break in a few short hours.

Kain laughed, the sound far colder than the humid air. Did the oracle suppose that materialization over open water would result in his demise? Water meant agonizing death for lesser vampires, but any ancient was more than capable of traveling to solid ground, regardless of distance.

When Kain found this "oracle" again, he'd tear its temple down around its ears.

But until then...turning himself, Kain scanned the horizon, searching for any trace of land. A broad strip of tiny lights smudged the sea's surface to the northeast.

So many lights – was that land? If so, it seemed unaccountably populated. Unflickering lights blanketed the shoreline in white and yellow stars, stretching inland a very great distance. Freeport? Meridian, perhaps? Certainly not in Kain's own era. Meridian was an enormous city, the largest Nosgoth had ever seen, but even at its height, the capital had contained at best a hundred thousand humans.

In what time did Kain find himself, then? Too late to warn Raziel, or too early?

Damn that oracle! There wasn't any way to find out but to ask, and even if Kain found someone worth speaking to, it was possible that there would be no way back to the correct time at all if the time-streaming chambers were ruined in this era.

Or if they hadn't yet been created.

With a low hiss of annoyance, Kain invoked the powers that would disincorporate his body. His awareness fragmented, senses both diminishing and multiplying as thousands of tiny forms took wing from his flesh.

The bats disliked the water below and the distant lights before them. The fragments of armor and Reaver which each bat contained felt like a pervasive itch in the back of Kain's consciousness. This form was somewhat difficult to control under the best of circumstances – occasionally, when traveling betwixt his sons' abodes, Kain would abruptly find himself instead within his own crypt, returned to sanctuary once again.

The bats weren't even particularly good at scouting – superb sonar allowed them to find a sheltered spot in which to reform Kain's body, but their extremely limited eyesight was of little strategical use.

The bats were, however, very, very fast, traveling many times the speed of any natural beast of air or darkness. They carried Kain to the city's shoreline within minutes and circled, chirping in echolocative song. Kain forced their attention from the clouds of salt gnats and back to the landscape. There seemed to be no end of buildings, all far taller than Kain anticipated. Could the bats be mistaken, their sonar somehow impeded?

One building caught his attention when several bats darted into it and promptly became disoriented, their cries reflecting harshly from large metal blocks. The building seemed many levels high, yet it had enormous open windows. Kain directed the rest of the bats to join their lost brethren, and quickly found a dim corner within the strange structure.

The bats swarmed together, massing, their limbs melting and joining. The process was painful, but familiarly so.

A few seconds later, the weight of his heavy black boots and gauntlets settling around him and the heft of the Reaver once more securely upon his back, Kain opened his eyes.

Well. How… fascinating. This part of the building had no real rooms to speak of. The floor was largely open, shaded by the level above and dotted with thick columns which, presumably, kept the upper layers from collapsing. The columns were certainly necessary – the exterior walls were formed of chest-high metal railings, spaced between short stretches of featureless gray wall. Surely powerful magics must keep the whole edifice erect, though Kain could see no obvious glyphs or arcane devices.

Painted yellow stripes turned the open areas into a kind of a grid, and enormous ramps led to the levels above and below. Strangest of all, however, were the handful of metal contraptions which littered the wide open space. They had wheels, and were covered like wagons, but most were far too small to carry a farmer's goods to market or armored men to war. They also had no hitches for horses or slaves, nor any visible power glyphs. Perhaps they were meant only to roll down inclines? What other purpose could the wheels serve?

Kain looked around, watchful. He stepped out of his corner, mindful of the sound his steel-shod half boots made on the floor, which seemed like stone, but lacked seams or joints. He approached a wagon, one of the smaller red ones, prepared for an attack to be launched or alarm to be sounded.

The carriage did nothing.

Kain stalked slowly around it. Glassed windows revealed that the carriage contained a small chamber cramped with a pair of legless chairs, a bench, a wheel, and a number of switches and dials, some of which seemed vaguely reminiscent of the time-streaming chambers' controls. The front of the wagon – he assumed it was the front -- had been styled to seem a little like eyes. He passed a clawed hand in front of one white, glass-covered, eye-like socket. The metal device made no response.

Several small sheets of paper had been placed on the front window of the carriage. Kain plucked them free. The papers were uniformly very fine, without the slightest roughness, and were covered on both sides in alien sigils which bore relation neither to bloodscript nor to any other text in Kain's wide experience.

Very gingerly, Kain laid a hand on the front of the carriage and pushed. The whole contraption rocked backwards, then slid the bare width of a talon. Kain's claws left three deep creases as he removed his hand. Strange. It seemed that magics prevented the carriage from rolling, yet did nothing to protect what was evidently a thin and very fragile metal skin. It was difficult to fathom the purpose of such a device.

The large, railed windows drew Kain's attention next. The floor on which Kain stood appeared to be almost thirty feet off the ground, yet other edifices rose even higher, and blocked most of the view. A narrow alley passed below, and to Kain's left, he could just make out a row of shopfronts, each topped by strangely illuminated signs.

More signs and paper notices covered almost every surface along the alley's walls. The missives seemed to be written in the same script as the papers on the carriage. A few of them had pictures along with the unusual text, but many contained nothing but dense lettering. This too was outlandish -- pictorial signs had been much more common than actual writing in all Kain's eras. It was almost as if the humans of this era were… universally literate.

What a bizarre notion.

Kain could see – and smell -- a number of humans already moving about. The breeze smelled of brine, the acrid bite of tar or burning oil, and yes, a great many humans. But oddly, the most distinctive scents of human cities were diminished or absent. The foul rot of open sewers, the caustic fumes of tanneries, and the underlying puss-ridden malaise of disease – such scents were all but missing. What manner of creature constructed such a city? And the humans below – at what labors did they toil in this unsoiled place?

There were too many humans below to risk vaulting over the railing. Few actions alerted the vampire hunters to one's nature quite like falling five times one's height, and Kain had no particular wish to attract attention, nor to thereby perhaps change the course of history. The sooner he found a way from this time and back to Raziel, the better.

Kain turned and started towards one of the big ramps, hoping for a way down and, with luck, out. His boots kept up a constant clatter; the steel shanks that reinforced the sides brushed the ground with each step, the sound echoing throughout this strange layered complex.

Kain paused, waiting for the echoes to die out. Sounds of an awakening city were beginning to fill the air, but from this structure, Kain could hear nothing of interest. He knelt, loosening the buckles that attached the plates to refasten them a bit higher. It was difficult to manipulate the buckles without the assistance of a human slave – Kain's talons, though highly dexterous, simply weren't meant to fit in tight places.

Melchiah, with his slender talons, had never had a problem. The vampire had been a natural armorer, unquestionably skilled with metal plates, and of course, with leather. It had been he who designed the boots to protect an evolved vampire's comparatively vulnerable ankle joints – for while wounds to skin or muscle were merely painful annoyances, an arrow through an ankle or wrist could leave that limb crippled for hours.

How long had Melchiah knelt at Kain's feet, measuring, prodding, trying on prototypes? There had been times when half-finished designs on rough paper littered the throne room steps. But the end result had been worth it – clever leather-and-chain joints allowed a nearly full range of motion and the durability to withstand the kinds of stresses only a vampire could exact, while the layered half-inch steel plates offered unparalleled traction and complete protection. The boots also each weighed as much as a human child, but the weight was a negligible price to pay.

Kain tightened the last hidden buckle and stood, stamping to settle the armor into place. The side plates now rode an inch higher up Kain's calf, though one hung just a little crooked. Melchiah would have been horrified, he'd have dropped to his knees and begged to be allowed to readjust Kain's armor. Even as a week-old fledge, Melchiah had always been enormously concerned about the physical wellbeing of his Sire and brothers. In fact, he'd….

"Well well, aren't we the walking masquerade violation?" Baring fang, Kain refocused in an instant. The voice was rough, gravelly, abrasive. The figure to which the voice belonged looked much the same, with the addition of greenish, brown-mottled skin.

Over the ages, Kain had become familiar with a number of languages. He spoke thirty-seven distinct tongues fluently, from the crude yapping of barbarian swamp tribesmen to courtly dialects engineered for elegant and deadly verbal duels. He knew fragments of hundreds of languages more.

Kain understood not a single one of the gnarled creature's words.

The creature stood at similar height to a human, though the way it lounged against the metal railing beside the descending ramp made it seem shorter. It looked a bit like a vampire, though a young one -- smelled a little like one, too. Fang tips showed as the green fledgling smirked.

But no vampire fledge would ever dare face Kain down. Even if they didn't know him by sight, the fledges of Kain's sons simply knew their grandsire, knew that the blood which sung in their veins answered to one source alone. Which meant that this… creature… was either no kin of Kain's, or was extremely dim-witted.

And either way, Kain felt no compulsion to be the least bit gentle in extracting information. The Reaver came to hand with a softly eager keening, glad of the impending violence. "Tell me what place this is," he growled, stepping forward threateningly, eyes fixed upon his target.

The small green creature seemed astonished that it had been seen, though it certainly hadn't been hiding particularly well. The creature frowned and adopted a look of inward concentration. Nothing, so far as Kain could tell, happened.

Kain advanced another step. Last change, little fledge. The creature looked down at itself, as if checking for something, and looked back up at Kain, its confusion growing. "Uh. Gangrel? You're not a Nos…" it started.

Kain leapt, feinting with the sword, preparing to seize the creature with his free claw.

With a squeak, the green humanoid darted away, vaulting down the ramps, slipping between guard rails.

Kain hissed in annoyance and lunged, heavy cloven hooves goring the concrete. He phased through the railings midair, transitioning from physical to blood-mist and back with a hair's-breadth to spare.

The vampire-like creature was fast; Kain had it give it that. Two floors down, it darted into a side room and flung shut a heavy door just as Kain reached the ground. Kain didn't slow, didn't stop to check if the door was even locked. Ripping the door off its hinges barely even slowed him down.

The side room was quite small. Boxes made of strange, stiff paper were stacked high along the walls, and more familiar mops and brooms splintered when the remains of the door crashed into them.

The vampire-thing was frantically lifting up on a metal disk set flush into the middle of the floor.

With a single bound, Kain cleared piles of debris. One great cloven foot slammed down in the center of the metal disk, crushing the fledgling's gnarled, clawed fingers.

Kain seized the gasping thing by its throat, forcing eye contact. "Now," he said, very calmly, as he began to sort through its mind, seeking language skills first. "You're going to tell me everything you know... and I do mean everything."

* * *

_Swift as a hunting spider, a force seized Raziel, dragged him down. The wraith hardly had a moment to scrabble for the edge before he stuck bottom with a brittle crunch. Old bones and wetter things crushed and scattered from the impact. _

_And in the darkness, something very large began to move._

A great shape began to shuffle out of the darkness. Raziel tensed himself. The god of the pit was massive, monstrous, its limbs disturbingly-jointed. It smelled at the air with its horrible snout.

Raziel stepped to the side, hooves making only the slightest of sounds against the smooth-worn floor. But the creature's enormous ears twitched, following him, as the creature tracked Raziel's attempt at evasion.

The beast snarled, exposing fangs longer than Raziel's arm. "I smell no blood..." Angered now, it abandoned any attempt at subtlety. Its feet struck the ground, shaking it with every step. The beast craned its next back, blindly seeking the platform where its worshippers no longer stood. "Throat cut first, blood gouting, then it falls into the pit... The sacrifice is rejected. You will know my wrath…"

No response emerged from above. The monster turned and approached Raziel closely, sniffing. The wraith held utterly still, uncertain.

The god of the pit jerked, as if startled. It hissed. "Not possible. No. It could not be…"

Raziel quickly found himself tiring of this game. The wraithblade coiled around his arm. "Stand away, monster," he growled.

"No. That voice -- not possible. I know that voice... but he fell. The abyss, he ended there."

The wraith's eyes narrowed. "I did not fall into the abyss."

The beast seemed to smile, less than half-sane. "Oh, it remembers that, does it? "

"I was thrown in, by my own brethren."

"I heard what you did to them... And now you have found me at last," the monster snapped its jaws.

Raziel's eyes widened, understanding at last. He breathed his brother's name. "Turel…"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter3**

-----

First and foremost Kain knew this: He was no longer in Nosgoth.

The Nosferatu hadn't even known what that word meant.

Kain leaned, arms folded, against a column at the entrance to the "parking garage." The eyes of passing humans skipped past him, the gentlest mental nudge sufficient to direct their trivial attentions elsewhere. Comfortably cloaked in anonymity, Kain watched three more of the slender, misshapen green "Nosferatu" slip past him, each believing itself fully concealed as it headed for the tunnels beneath the sewers. None so much as glanced his way, but now that Kain knew what to look for, their movements were as clear as those of any clumsy human.

Kain hadn't plucked as much information from the Nosferatu's mind as he might have wished, a fact which troubled him. The process of mindreading remained somewhat crude; few creatures could ultimately survive the probe of a mind as vast as Kain's. But even a human could be expected to maintain its sanity for a few minutes under the onslaught.

Yet this Nosferatu... in the first few seconds, as Kain united images and emotions with sounds, assimilating the essentials of this "English" language, he realized that the half-broken fledgling was still begging to know Kain's "clan." Even with its mind worn thin, soul beginning to separate from its body, the Nosferatu tried desperately to gather information.

Kain, of course, had no clan. But as a courtesy to the dying, he'd paused in his mental pillage and spoken his name. "I," he'd said simply, tasting the shape of the unfamiliar words in his mouth, "am Kain."

The Nosferatu's mind had shattered.

Finding the creature now utterly useless to him, he'd fed it to the Reaver, leaving a scattering of ash behind.

But how had the creature known Kain? Had it simply reached the end of its endurance? Or perhaps, had Kain's poor grasp of this new language led him to speak something else entirely?

Another Nosferatu darted past, twisting around to cast one last fearful glance at the bright pre-dawn. Kain saw little need to interfere with the Nosferatu's activities, for the time being. The Nosferatu's mind had, before breaking, surrendered images of dozens of the vampire-like creatures in a warren of water-filled, stinking, cramped and dripping tunnels. A single fastidious sniff down the narrow, laddered pit beneath the "manhole cover" convinced Kain that exploring the city's sewers was not a task worthy of his time.

Now that Kain knew where they lurked, he could always pursue the rest of the odd green fledglings later, if it became necessary.

In the few moments before the Nosferatu's mind had melted, Kain had viewed an addled nightmare of ideas so utterly foreign that he had a hard time even understanding them, let alone believing them. As strange as Meridian had been with its alien technologies, this world was still stranger. It seemed the world above ground was worthy of exploration.

'Cars' - Kain knew something of them now - trundled down the streets as the sky lightened. Though very like Meridian's moving lifts, the conveyances had no external runners or guidelines. They growled lowly with energy as they moved, and many entered the place of parking. Kain watched as they went about their business. Each paused briefly at the entrance while a human leaned out to collect a small paper square from a box-like device. The car then located a clear place beside its metal brethren and arranged itself betwixt the painted yellow lines, to greater or lesser success. The vehicle went silent, and after a few moments one or more humans exited the conveyance and hurried out to nearby buildings.

Everywhere his gaze rested, Kain found something new and strange. To his left stretched the bay over which Kain had materialized. The water was covered with small pleasure boats; the few that moved at this hour did so without sails, galley slaves, or smoke-belching steam engines. Humans walked the streets without fear, without overlords - indeed, if the Nosferatu's fragmented memories were to be trusted, humans had built all of this. It was all...very nearly inconceivable.

Perhaps these humans were of a different species than Nosgoth's? If so, the two were closely related -- these humans resembled those with which Kain was familiar, though only so much as a hunting dog resembled a vicious cur. For one, these humans came in a variety of intriguing colorations. Several passing humans possessed skin like polished obsidian, another sported hair as blue as unclouded skies -- did humans here paint themselves, or were they birthed possessing such hues? Kain knew that some of his sons selectively bred humans for desirable traits -- had someone, or something, done the same here?

Nearly as striking, all these humans were quite a bit larger than Nosgoth's. Some were nearly as tall as Kain himself. The humans of Nosgoth rarely stood higher than Kain's collar, and most were far smaller once famines began to wrack the land.

Most of these humans were clad in utterly alien garb, in clothes in every shade under the sun, or in starker attire of more formal lines. Other humans, some dressed a bit like Kain himself, entered the place of parking and headed for their conveyances. Many of the humans wore colors that Kain knew were rare in fabrics -- purple, metallic gold, and every shade of blue in the unspoiled sky. Yet the drably-clothed humans showed no deference to those wearing such colorful marks of distinction. What mad world was this, where peasants wore the clothing of kings?

Kain tilted his head back. The rising sun had largely obliterated the stars above, but his keen vision could still pick out a few. Was one of those distant points Nosgoth's sun, then? And, knowing how mutable time was, how long had he been gone from his own world?

Somewhere out there, somewhen, Raziel stood in Avernus cathedral, seeking the Heart of Darkness as the city burned around him. At the same time, in the same place, Kain's far-younger incarnation sought Azimuth, the Planar.

Kain had to get back to Nosgoth. And he had to do it fast.

He took some refuge from the fact that his memories had not changed -- he had not, as a fledgling, encountered Raziel. Yet would his memories have changed, now that Kain found himself so far from Nosgoth? Did Nosgoth's reshuffling history also alter the universe's history?

Or... Had Kain's intended intervention proved too dire for the timestream to accept? Was this what happened when the timestream expelled an irritant? Did it merely send the annoyance very far away?

Kain stood in contemplation, weighing possibility after possibility, as the sun rose. Before long, rays crested the shielding buildings and fell fully upon him. The sun's brilliance made him blink in annoyance -- it had been a long time since Kain had seen sunlight unfiltered by smoke or cloud. It seemed, however, that this sun was very much akin to Nosgoth's; Kain suspected its rays might injure the weak or very young.

The bright light put a strain -- though slight -- on even Kain's powers. There were nearly a hundred humans within Kain line of sight, all of them constantly moving. It took little effort to cause one human, or even dozens, to glance in disinterest over Kain's presence. But maintaining so many connections to so many minds -- however tenuous each link was -- was beginning to verge on challenging. The simple illusion of disguise would likewise prove difficult to maintain among so many human. Evidently, a more devious guise would be in order if Kain meant to explore this world.

Despite the prevalence of pure technology on this planet, magic obviously functioned here much as it had on Nosgoth. Kain invoked the magics that made matter mutable. He hissed softly as his claws split, shrunk, the dense dermal armor plates subsiding, his body

taking on the regal, cool appearance of a highborn mortal. In face and body, this form was similar to his fledgling state, but his skin, hair, and lips now sported a certain warmness of tone which Kain's vampiric body had never possessed. Cementing the image, this body bore blunted canines, rounded ears, and hazel eyes. It was a far better disguise than that which simply made his observers see what they expected to see.

When Kain first learned to reshape his flesh -- to become wolfishly bestial or to beguile the eyes of men, -- he'd found the process taxing. Now it seemed second nature.

The Reaver obliged to his will and rendered itself dimensionless, invisible, but Kain had to strip off his now-poorly fitting gauntlets and boots and dismiss them. Kain turned his attention once more to the bustling crowd. Close inspection of the humans revealed that nearly all of them possessed both footwear and some upper-body clothing. Evidently, Kain would require both in order to mingle with the crowd. And... Kain wasn't particularly hungry, yet, but perhaps he should discover whether these humans could provide the same nourishment as their Nosgoth counterparts... before the need became inevitable.

The human elite of this world could also represent a means of returning to his home, or provide information in that regard. Human places of business appeared to have opened now, and it was possible that more information could be gleaned by mingling with the mortals. If there were anywhere near as many humans in this city as the Nosferatu thought -- surely there were not tens of millions -- then Kain would have to be cautious. Humans were like rats, unthreatening on their own, but potentially hazardous in mobs.

But first -- clothing. Though he no longer frequently needed his armors of old, Kain still kept certain suits wrapped tightly in extra-dimensional pockets of magic. Some pieces, such as the iron platemail Kain had died in, would not have survived the millennium otherwise. The Wraith armor's boots were plain and matte black, and should serve as sufficient footwear until Kain found something better suited to this world.

Wearing a breastplate or other armor, though, would most likely prove injudicious. None of the humans in Kain's sight wore any armor at all.

Perhaps Kain could find some benefit in these humans' oversized proportions. After a moment's consideration, he selected a suitably clothed human -- one of the largest males -- from the crowd and willed the mortal towards him. He led the man back into the place of parking, to where he'd destroyed the Nosferatu. There were more humans, this time dressed in dark blue uniforms, inspecting the twisted mess Kain had left of the metal door. Another human used a thin strip of metal to measure the hoofprint Kain had left in the center of the metal disk.

Kain watched them move about, his eyes narrowed in consideration. The back of the humans' jackets read "Police" in white lettering. Information gleaned from the slain Nosferatu suggested that these humans were to be taken seriously. Perhaps these humans played the same role on this world as the Sarafan did in Kain's? Did they hunt the vampires of this world, or... they seemed to carry no weapons of any real note, just a short black club and, even smaller, a thick segment of metal, bent near the middle. Could they be scouts, or a tracking unit?

The humans had no wards against vampiric powers, however, and their minds were just as weak and suggestible as any other human's. With a concerted mental effort, Kain dismissed the humans, imprinting his will. Unseeing, the humans dropped their instruments and filed out.

Alone for the moment, Kain addressed his enthralled prey. "Remove your jacket," he commanded simply.

The human complied immediately, stripping the black leather off and handing it over. Kain accepted the offering, finding the clothing tolerably clean and well-made: both novelties when dealing with objects of human design. The leather was very soft --obviously not meant for protection - and was lined with dark red fabric.

Of all the changes that had occurred within the first few moments of his resurrection, Kain found his new sense of smell to be perhaps the most striking. Humans, Kain had discovered, mere minutes after desperately shoving and clawing his way out of his own crypt, smelled. More to the point, humans stunk. Human cities and human babies and human workers -- they all reeked of rot and effluvium, of meat and disease and of stinking animalistic coupling.

Human cities fouled their environment for miles with their sewage, pumping filth and parasitic disease directly into their own drinking water.

Kain's contempt for humanity wasn't baseless.

But this particular human, and his clothing, actually seemed... relatively sanitary.

Kain shrugged into the human's black leather jacket. The fit was fairly good -- perhaps a bit tight around the biceps if he flexed, but otherwise tolerable. Between this garment, Kain's own black leather pants, and the wraith armor's boots, he should resemble the other humans closely enough to avoid attracting undue attention. Something hard yet lightweight had been placed in one of the pockets of the jacket, and Kain drew forth the unusual device.

It appeared to be spectacles made of some black substance. The frame was opaque, while the lenses were dark but clear, like smoked glass, yet very lightweight. Small text on the side of the spectacles proclaimed them belonging to one "Rayban."

A mark of clan ownership, perhaps? The unusual name could be of Hylden origin.

Frowning, Kain pried open the human's mind with mental talons. The man's eyes rolled back as he whimpered in the inescapable mental embrace. Doing this to humans was generally pointless and disagreeable -- Kain had little interest in the simplistic thoughts and vapid recollections of manual labor that normally consumed a human's attentions.

But... this human had been educated. That itself was strange, for he seemed to have no native talents of any particular note -- no magical inclinations, no inborn combat potential. He was just a human, much like any that grubbed the soil. Yet he had been taught to read and write, and had developed skills that the human, at least, felt were useful, even if the images behind "server-side scripting" meant little to Kain.

Unaccountably, however, the human knew very little about vampires. If anything, he seemed to possess some distain for the topic -- vampires were legendary, nothing but children's tales and flights of fantasy fit for "romance novels." And the human knew nothing at all of the Hylden. The smoked spectacles were simply "sunglasses," and many humans possessed them.

Kain turned his attention to the human's memories of this city, flaying knowledge, strip by strip, from the human's brain. A trickle of blood oozed from the human's ear, sliding down his neck. Even as Kain examined and filed away the deluge of new information, the images and ideas the human's mind offered slowly unraveled, disintegrated, becoming muddled and increasingly useless. At last, ransack completed, Kain caught the human tightly as he collapsed.

Mindless, broken, the human began to shiver with primal and unthinking terror. Tears leaked from his widely staring eyes. Normally, when Kain preyed on the unwashed masses that swarmed the cities of Nosgoth, he would call his prey's blood from its paths, the mortal life bursting free to fill Kain with vigor. He rarely cared to lay fang to throat - the scent and taste of filthy human skin invariably spoiled the blood's heady bouquet.

But this human wasn't unwashed, even if he was clearly part of the swarming masses.

The reek of the human's mortal body processes was vastly muted, allowing the warm, welcoming throb of bloodscent to rise unsullied from its freshly scrubbed skin. Even the acrid stink of sweat was largely eclipsed by a faintly earthy, pleasant musk -- some form of perfume.

Was this human a noble of this world? Kain knew that some members of the ruling classes of Nosgoth believed in bathing fortnightly. In life, Kain himself had never really seen the point, but in death, he'd been grateful for that convention many times when dining. But no, this human's memories had contained no striking recollection of nobility or unusual privilege. It was no certainly member of any ruling class.

This human's hair was well cared for and remarkably soft, as sleek as a vampire's. He allowed its head to loll to the side and bent to the tanned throat. He sniffed cautiously, touching his tongue to the thin trickle of blood. He rolled the taste in his mouth. Obviously quite drinkable, he determined, swallowing. Humans on this planet seemed to make perfectly suitable prey.

Kain nuzzled for a moment, actively enjoying the texture of clean skin, allowing the scent and sound of pulsing blood to guide him to the great artery there. Kain relaxed his grasp on his current physical form, just enough to allow the points of his eyeteeth to extend to their accustomed length. He set the tips carefully and, with hardly any pressure at all, they sank through the surface.

With the first swallow, Kain's eyes widened in surprise. His arms tightened around the human pressing the body firmly against his. The better angle allowed him to seal his lips tightly over the wound, preventing the escape of any fluids.

By the dark gods, this was...

The blood was as thick and rich as if the human had never lived through a famine in its life. More than that, it was subtly flavored with the kinds of foods even nobles could rarely access. The human had consumed good wine some hours ago -- though the intoxicating properties had long faded, the wine had imparted a rich, deep flavor to the blood. There was a certain clean "feel" to the blood as well -- one that Kain always associated with spring and the appearance of new, dark-green vegetation, and which Kain had rarely detected in the veins of city dwellers. That refreshing taste was balanced with a musky sweetness, as if the human had eaten of fish or fowl recently. Some of Kain's sons expressed a dislike for the distinctive flavors conveyed by the consumption of meat or milk; Kain himself preferred the more complex bouquet.

The flow redoubled, the human's heart beating desperately to maintain pressure. Kain enjoined the human's larger muscles to contract, forcing blood up from collapsing veins. Most peasants of Nosgoth, small and weakened as they were, contained little more than a pitcher-full of blood worth the effort of taking. The rest was either more difficult to reach in the masses of minute capillary beds, or was oddly-flavored and stripped of the crimson components -- interstitial and lymph fluids.

After two thousand years spent disassembling humans, one uncovered a very great deal about their physiology.

This human was proving more durable. Its larger frame had already delivered nearly twice as much blood as a strong Nosgothian warrior contained, and all of it much higher in quality. Truly, this was a banquet to be enjoyed over the course of hours, rather than a quick meal to be taken amid filth and smashed "cardboard" boxes.

Other layers of flavor teased at his senses. Faint bitterness marked chemical contamination, though not even a thousandth so much as he'd tasted in Meridian's toxic residents. A certain silky tang confounded identification -- unless... had the human been eating... citrus? Where had a working-class human gained access to the rarest of all southern imports? The fruits must simply be more common on this world, this "Earth." Fascinating.

Kain drew heavily upon the wound for the last few mouthfuls, unwilling to forego the last draught of the human's blood. At last, Kain dropped the carcass and drew his fist across his mouth, pausing to lick the smear from the back of his hand. Uncharacteristic warmth spread throughout his limbs and torso, his body taking advantage of the over-abundance of nutrients and energy to repair the stubbornly lingering effects of deeper injuries sustained over the last few days.

It wouldn't do to have his presence here discovered so quickly, Kain decided, considering the corpse. He pried up the metal disk and disposed of the body into the murky water far below. Let the Nosferatu deal with Kain's leavings.

Kain allowed his illusionary aura to disperse around him as he left the place of parking. Before stepping into the sunlight, he removed the "sunglasses" from his pocket and slipped them on. They fit his face quite comfortably, and, though they interfered a little with his peripheral vision, they dimmed the sunlight to an unobjectionable level. An acceptable exchange, Kain determined.

Heads turned as Kain stepped out of the darkness. He ignored the humans, instead extending his senses, searching for direction. A great wooden arch, marked with the words "Santa Monica Harbor," stood above the entrance to a hugely extensive pier. The breeze brought to Kain a host of fascinating scents - human food and human bodies, rubbish and flowering greenery, "diesel" fumes and hot sand, and... ah. There. More vampires, their scent quite faded, and lacking the dankness of the Nosferatu.

Turning his back on the bay, Kain started north and east, tracking the elusive vampires of this world. They, or the abundant humans, would aid Kain in returning to Nosgoth. For the sake of this planet, Kain hoped to find its denizens in an accommodating mood.

------

_The beast paused for a moment, drooling in anticipation of the fine meal he saw before him. Kain smiled. He readied himself, thighs tensing with the unholy strength necessary to launch death-pale vampire and finely forged steel into devastating attack. The beast would be disappointed; he would not find Kain such easy prey. _

Kain loped through the wide-open Cathedral doors with a certain degree of relief. The high-vaulted entrance hall was empty. The marble floor was clean, save where Kain tread, leaving footprints of ash tracked in from the burning city.

Setting his back to a corner, Kain pulled the armored glove from his left hand with his teeth. A deep puncture in the middle of the gauntlet had shoved ragged metal edges deep into the wound, preventing proper healing. Kain hissed softly as the sharp edges of his armor sawed the wound open again. At last, glove off, Kain lapped across the wound and probed into the gash with the tip of his tongue. Even in his few short weeks as a vampire, Kain had learnt well that metal fragments left inside an injury would continue to pain him as long as they remained embedded.

Content that the wound was clean, Kain kept watch, waiting while the gash closed over.

Dozens of the demons which roamed the streets of Avernus had died on his blades, yet more seemed always to await him just around the next corner. Though Kain would gladly have fought them all, the attempt could have resulted in Kain's demise. It wasn't that the demons were individually beyond his skill - certainly not. But they were numerous, perhaps even numberless; and of greater importance, they left no warm-blooded vessel alive behind them.

And the demons themselves were... unpalatable.

The wound took a little longer to completely heal than it should have. There was still a raw pink spot, coin sized, when he stretched his hand to test the new tendons, working the stiffness away. At last satisfied, he combed his bare fingers through his hair, dislodging chunks of black gore and drying demon fluids.

His left gauntlet wouldn't fit properly when he tried to slip it over his hand again. A host of deep dents in the metal plates, plus the larger puncture, deformed the shape of the gauntlet. Kain examined the indentations, slipping pale fingers beneath the red steel to feel the extent of the damage. Experimentally, he pressed hard with two fingertips -- and smirked as the dent reluctantly flattened beneath his strength.

A shadow fell across him.

Kain dropped the battered gauntlet and wheeled to face the entrance, sword drawn.

From outside the open Cathedral doors, a face as broad as Kain was tall stared back. As large as the other demons had been, this one was at least thrice as big. From its curving horns to cloven hooves, the beast was as crimson as tacky-dry blood. Kain could feel its beady eyes upon him, eager, hungry, as if it longed to rip his heart out and eat it before him as he died.

Kain laughed, readying himself for the onslaught.

The demon sniffed at the Cathedral's threshold, snarling. Futilely, it turned to pace back and forth, snapping its jaws at Kain with a sound like the fall of a guillotine's blade. A flicker of movement in the plaza outside the Cathedral caught its attention and it veered, moving like a creature a tenth its weight, and charged at a mindlessly scavenging black demons, brethren to the ones Kain had bested in fierce combat. The larger red beast left charred and smoking footprints as it hurtled into combat.

Kain simply stood for a moment, observing the destruction. Behind him, the great Cathedral hall lay empty and echoing with distant hymns; no trace of devastation marked the place of worship. Before him, the black demon was torn apart in the blink of an eye. The red demon, victorious, rose up and roared, flames gouting from its maw into the sky. It spared one last furious glance towards the Cathedral, where Kain still waited, then snorted and stalked out of sight.

Avernus, Kain knew, was a religious autocracy. The Cathedral was its dais of power, and though the city lay in ruins, the Cathedral remained untouched. Kain began to laugh once more. The demons, quite obviously, knew better than to bite the hand that fed them.

Kain had never been so gracious. He picked up his gauntlet and started into the chapel, tracking the warm scent of living blood.

-----

Note: Eternal thanks to thebasi, whose thoughtfulness and insight know no bounds, for improving this section immeasurably. And also for being willing to ruminate on topics from evolutionary anthropology to heavy artillery -- I intend to get a number of your suggestions worked into future sections. Thank you again!


End file.
